Unexpected Hero
by Dixie Dewdrop
Summary: Placed on restriction, how does a teen aged Tony spend his evening? This is part of my Fate scenario.
1. The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door

Gibbs jogged down the stairs while adroitly tying the knot of his necktie. Grabbing his sport coat from the banister knob, he slid his arms into the sleeves and stopped briefly to regard his appearance in the foyer mirror.

Shaking his head as he adjusted the tie's knot, he tried to pinpoint how many weeks had passed since he had dressed so nicely.

He made a couple of adjustments to his navy blue jacket and brushed a thread of lint off of his khaki slacks.

Finally satisfied, he veered into the living room where his son, seventeen year old Tony, sprawled watching television.

"Hey," he called out, noting that Tony evidently managed to watch the screen with a scowl firmly in place.

Gibbs pursed his lips. He could take credit for that pout.

Ignoring the lack of response, Jethro crossed to the side table and snatched the media's remote, then aimed it at the television screen and muted the television's volume.

That elicited a reaction.

Tony sputtered in annoyance, "Thanks, Dad, I was right in the middle of watching that and you just interrupted!"

"Hmmm…" Gibbs regarded him, no evidence of apology in his voice. "Ok, now as I told you a little bit ago, I should get home around midnight. Jenny and I are just going to dinner and a movie."

"Wow, sounds riveting," Tony responded with as much sarcasm as he could thread between the words. He already knew that Jethro had a date with his former teammate, an attractive redhead with whom Jethro shared a history.

Gibbs chose to ignore the sarcasm for the moment. Crossing over to the sofa he leaned over the back and tousled his son's hair. "Make sure that your bedtime arrives before I return. I want you in your bed, not staying up all night. It worries me that you might not have slept enough the past few nights."

"What is it you think I can do all night, anyway, Dad? You refuse to let me leave the house, and according to you, the phone is off limits;" Tony demanded, not bothering to hide his anger. "You grounded me, remember?"

Gibbs moved around the couch. "That I did, because you had a bad progress report from school."

"So, what point are you trying to make right now?" Tony snapped, flinging his head back against the sofa's back.

"I made it." Gibbs narrowed his eyes and sharpened his tone. "However, if your attitude does not improve instantly, you will face more than just house confinement. I believe I addressed your disposition last night and promised you additional consequences if you did not check your tone and smart mouth. Am I clear?"

Though still very annoyed, Tony managed to quickly transform his expression. Having grown up with Gibbs as a father, he knew pushing his daddy's buttons any more would backfire on him. He had years of experience tempering his own responses.

"Yes sir," he replied simply.

"Yes sir, what?" Jethro prodded, keeping his gaze fixed on his son.

"Yes sir, I understand and I will take care of my attitude." Tony regarded his father's response to see if his words had satisfied the man.

Obviously, they did, or else his dad was in too good a mood to stop and deal with Tony further.

He motioned to the set. "Ok, I will see you asleep later tonight when I get home."

Gibbs turned and left the house with that promise. It surprised him that he anticipated his upcoming date with so much excitement. This actually comprised the third time he and Jen had scheduled time together in the past month.

She came to town every so often, and they picked up their relationship where they left it after each get together. No ties existed, and that pleased Gibbs. Jen seemed to appreciate the no strings attached times, as well.

He glanced back at the house while he backed the car down the driveway.

Tony had already managed to sulk forty eight hours, the exact time after his parent had lowered the boom and reminded him, quite eloquently, that c's were unacceptable. Tony had racked up four of them this grading period, as evidenced by the progress report, and Gibbs had promptly yanked his freedom to roam out from under him.

It had not been pretty for the teen, and he had responded with ill grace.

Gibbs sighed as he steered the car. Tony possessed a playful, sociable personality, and had allowed it to drive his school work the past few weeks, forcing his father to respond with a heavy hand. Jethro refused to accept grades lower than b's from his teen, who would gleefully shortchange academics to inflate his extra curricular time, or to hone his social skills.

Knowing his father followed through consistently with punishment if Tony's marks slipped, the child usually managed to keep all classes at B or A levels.

This time he had gambled too much, thinking that he could pull through right before the progress reports printed. However, his late efforts had failed, which accounted for the fact that his social, extra curricular life now had temporarily ceased to exist.

Jethro rubbed his chin as he idled at a stoplight. His role as a father exhausted him far more than his position as an NCIS agent.

He would consider himself a happy man when he had evidence that his happy go lucky son could actually act maturely outside of his father's periphery.

Back home, Tony's mood had failed to improve. Piled on the sofa he felt sorry for himself, assuring himself that he ranked as the victim in his current situation. No one else's parent acted so ridiculous about grades, especially grades that were interim grades and not even the final ones of the semester!

Now his fun suffered, and his social life lay in ruins.

When he had kids he would never treat them so unfairly over stupid, ridiculous, progress report grades!

Narrowing his eyes, he pushed himself off the sofa and wandered into the kitchen. Yanking open both the refrigerator door and the freezer door, he stood contemplating the contents while the hairs on his arms sprang up from the blast of cold air.

Nothing on the shelves or doors appealed to him at the moment, and he slammed both doors.

His eyes lit on the kitchen phone and he momentarily contemplated reaching out a hand and grabbing the receiver. How would his dad even know if he called anyone, anyway? Phone restriction just existed as yet another example of how his father overreacted at a couple of grades. However, common sense prevailed and he physically backed away from the temptation. He already had enough trouble on his shoulders without inviting extra.

Running his hands through his hair he jogged lightly towards the front door. It would be sheer Heaven to go for a nice long jog, to pound against the concrete for half an hour and allay his physical confinement.

Tony drummed his fingers against the metal strip of the door frame while he mused. Would his dad know if he disobeyed by leaving the house?

Perhaps one of the neighbors would see him, and inadvertently mention that little fact.

Tony wrinkled his nose and weighed the options. He knew he could not risk it.

His dad practiced no tolerance when it came to punishments or disobedience.

All this grounding ruined his life already, and provoking his father to add to it, like losing the television or suffering from a spanking, would just compound his misery.

Nevertheless, he cracked open the door to at least sniff the invigorating night air.

The cool, fresh night air greeted him and he inhaled happily,

Something caught his eye from across the street, and he swung open the door wider and focused.

A thin trail of smoke snaked from a front window of one of the houses across the street, about midway down the block.

Tony moved down until he reached the walkway, then crossed onto the grass of his front lawn for a better view.

Definitely, something inside that home burned, and it had nothing to do with a chimney!


	2. Superman

Superman

He pivoted and ran back into the house, grabbing the phone off of the side table in the living room as he hastily pulled on his sneakers. Punching in 9-1-1, he alerted a dispatcher to the emergency and address before racing back out the front door and slamming it behind him.

The street lamps failed to adequately illuminate the area, but Tony had grown up in the neighborhood. He knew every drop off from the concrete curb, every rise in the cracked sidewalk, and the types of foliage planted in each yard.

Vaulting over his immediate neighbor's hedge, he used that yard as a cut through to streak across the avenue and onto the property of the house identified by the smoke.

He could already smell it, an acrid, raw, combination of burning building material and sizzling insulation.

In front of the house he deliberately paused a moment and took stock of the situation before him, an approach his father had drilled into him to practice before he reacted in an emergency. He quickly scouted the exterior of the house and ascertained that the fire had already built in its intensity in those rooms closest to the street.

Tony wiped his mouth and raced up the back steps without touching the handrail. A single light shone softly from inside the home, and for the first time, he felt raw fear clutch him.

Not only did he know who lived there, but in fact, he had been a guest in the house several times. It belonged to a garrulous, retired postman and an outspoken, retired teacher, Jared and Margaret Garland. The couple had bought the home the very year they married, some sixty years before.

Now in their eighties, the couple suffered from a fair share of ill health, though they refused to succumb to locking themselves away from the world because of their weaknesses.

No, they embraced life anyway. They considered each day a blessing from God.

Despite the fact that he had been confined to a wheelchair for years, Jared worked in his yard nearly every day, and boasted a lawn so lush that car occupants would slow down to admire it as they passed on the road.

Margaret tutored high schoolers after school in all things math, which she had taught full time before her retirement years earlier. Hardly a day passed without a desperate teenager knocking on the front door, bookbag in hand and desiring immediate, additional tutelage in geometry or calculus.

The couple remained an integral part of the neighborhood culture, and because they had retired, also acted as the street's unofficial neighborhood watch.

Frantically, Tony banged first on the back door, then even louder on the windows framing it.

No one responded to the summons, and he kicked the doorframe in frustration. Both Garlands had become increasingly hard of hearing in the last few years. They probably had not even realized that he stood outside trying to alert them.

Tony stepped back and regarded the roofline.

A curl of smoke wafted from the side of the house to the back, and that visible threat galvanized the teen. Taking several steps backwards, he gathered his momentum and slammed into the door with a hard kick, grateful at the instant splintering of wood. Throwing himself at the broken section, he managed to hurl the door out of the way and then quickly propel himself inside the residence.

Thick black smoke already lay like an angry cloud close to the ceiling. Tony wheeled around, trying to guess where the couple could be. The faint sound of the television came from the den, and covering his nose with a cupped palm, he hurried in that direction.

Surely enough, Jared dozed sitting in his recliner, head thrown back and his wheelchair parked right beside the lounge chair. Margaret, however, had been knitting as she watched a show, and she threw her hands against her chest at the shock of seeing her young neighbor materialize in front of her.

"Tony, oh my goodness, you scared the life right out of me!" she scolded. "What in the world are you doing in my house in the middle of the night?"

She started to rise, but had trouble gaining her balance and had to grab the chair's frame. Tony rushed to her side and slipped one strong arm behind her back and underneath her arms. "We have to hurry, Mrs. Garland. We need to get out right now- the house in on fire!"

The older woman slapped at his hand, "This is not funny, young man, and please believe me, I have every intention of telling your father about your behavior. Have you forgotten that spanking he gave you when you and your little friends decided to paint my porch rail black so you could use it as a toy car speedway?"

For good measure, she landed another good smack to his hand to emphasize her displeasure.

Tony grabbed her tighter and replied firmly. "Mrs. Garland, you can get me the spanking later, ok? Right now, though, you are going outside with me!"

Ignoring her protests and verbal reprimands directed at his disrespectful attitude, he finally just swooped her up in his arms and dashed out of the home.

Depositing her on the sidewalk in front of the house he stopped and gained control of his breathing, greedily sucking in gulps of fresh, clean air.

Spotting another neighbor running towards them, he yelled, pointing to Margaret, "Keep her out here- the fire's already through the front of the house!"

Turning, he raced back around the residence and into the burning home once again. In that brief space of time the fire had travelled, and he could see that flames now licked the corner of the den.

The older man had not moved during his wife's evacuation, nor had he even opened his eyes. Tony grabbed at Jared's sweater and shook him fearfully.

The lack of response sent an electric current of terror through Tony.

He could not get Jared to wake, and for a split second, sheer panic almost paralyzed him. Mr. Garland had to be dead. Tony had not been fast enough, had not responded the way he should have done to save him!

Running his hands through his hair Tony tried to calm himself and think rationally. Perhaps the man had inhaled smoke, and that was why he was unresponsive.

A sudden crash shook the house, and a whoosh followed instantly as the fire gathered momentum.

That galvanized him, and without another second of delay he reached down and yanked the old man out of the recliner, then shoved him into the wheelchair. Tilting the chair on its two back wheels, he maneuvered them out of the house and onto the porch. Then, somehow he managed to get both the unconscious man and his mode of transportation down the steps, around the yard, and onto the sidewalk.

Screaming with relief at their appearance, Margaret threw herself at her husband, wrapping her arms around him and nearly toppling the chair.

Tony bent at the waist and frantically breathed in huge lungs full of oxygen, thinking to himself that nothing had ever felt so welcome as that cold, pure air. It took almost a full minute for him to realize that he was the center of attention and in the middle of a group of neighbors who were both calling him a hero and worrying aloud about his health.

He brushed off their well meaning concern, but did allow the medical personnel to examine him when they arrived on the scene moments later. The teen had come through with no lasting damage.

Emergency responders ordered the Garlands to the hospital for a complete evaluation, though thanks to Tony, both had survived the razing of their home with no serious injuries.

The seventeen year old had appeared as their angel in disguise.

The bystanders continued to call him a hero.

Quite a while later Tony trudged wearily home, having stayed with the rest of the block to see if any part of the home could withstand the fire's fury.

The fire department had done its best to extinguish the flames, but the home proved a total loss.

Slipping through his front door, Tony walked straight to the laundry room and stripped there, shoving all of his clothes into the washer and watching with weary satisfaction as hot water drenched them full blast.

He thought that burning smell would never leave the fibers of his clothing, nor the corner of his memory.

Trudging up the steps and into the bathroom he showered, standing under the spray for nearly thirty minutes.

He shampooed and washed and scrubbed until the hot water finally depleted.

Drying himself thoughtfully, he pulled on his pajamas and slid into bed.

Glancing at the bedside clock before he closed his eyes, he saw that it was midnight on the dot.

Half an hour later Jethro walked quietly upstairs, loosening his tie as he peeped in on his son.

As usual, the sleeping boy lay crossways across the bed.

Tony did not even stir when he repositioned him and softly kissed the top of his head.

Gibbs regarded him with some concern. The teen must have been exhausted to sleep through the tragedy that he had discovered when he drove home- a fire truck pulling away from what was left of the Garland home down the street.

Jethro had hurried over, and quickly questioned the firemen. Relief had washed over him when he heard the occupants were alive, though the home was a total loss.

Jethro regarded Tony, safe in the protection of his home, and leaned down to brush back his bangs.

Maybe the grounding had an unexpected side effect by helping the teen physically. Evidently, he needed sleep badly. As upset as Tony was about the punishment, it had kept him from experiencing the potential harm of his neighborhood this evening.

Gibbs leaned down and kissed his son again before he made his way to his own room. Thank God his child had stayed safe throughout the danger.


End file.
